


just what i needed

by theheartfalls



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, F/M, lots and lots of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-31
Updated: 2013-01-31
Packaged: 2017-11-27 16:12:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/663933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theheartfalls/pseuds/theheartfalls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn can't handle loss. He can't handle break ups and finality. He also can't handle that girl that looks a lot like Perrie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	just what i needed

**Author's Note:**

> My friend inspired this with a conversation about worrying about how Zayn would act on tour if he and Perrie split. I'm sorry but not really that sorry, actually.

They’re sitting on the hotel couch, Niall’s head nestled into Liam’s neck. There’s a stupid comedy show about some guy and his dysfunctional family playing on the television, and Louis is laughing at every badly placed joke they make. Liam’s just rolling his eyes and chuckling, good-natured, always trying to placate Louis. 

It’s nice. Soothing. There’s no underlining tension like they’ve had for the past few weeks. No one’s waiting with baited breath. The stress just seemed to drip off them all, leaving them feeling a little less like something was about to break. 

Maybe it was because they’d been in California so long and nothing had happened. Maybe it was just California itself. They always enjoyed themselves here. The sun, even in the colder months. The fans, so calm and less intrusive. California had been good to them.

Maybe it was the way Zayn hadn’t left his hotel room other than for rehearsals, sound checks, and shows. There was an old pattern to their lives here, because that’s how it had always been and how they had thought it would always be. Just them, Zayn keeping to himself, and nothing to hide. Nothing to keep from Paul.

No girls to sneak out in the middle of the night.

Niall didn’t blame Zayn. He really didn’t. It’s hard enough to be on tour, away from everyone you loved for so long. It’s harder still when you’re fresh off a break-up that blindsided everyone, yourself included. Niall can’t hold a grudge against Zayn for being a little difficult, a little crazy, right now. 

He could worry, though. It had been months now, months since everything shattered before their very eyes and they watched the unimaginable happen. He could worry that Zayn was handling this all wrong and hurting himself, because that’s what best friends do. That’s what Zayn used to always do… Always the worrier…

But California had been so calm. 

Until Zayn came stumbling into the room, interrupting Louis’ laughter and another stupid joke to ruffle Niall’s hair and say, “Wanna go shopping with me?” in a quiet, hinting voice. 

The worry was in Liam’s eyes too, and in Harry’s frown, but Niall just nodded and stood up. 

They all knew he’d do these things regardless of them, despite his better judgement even. It was like he had just stopped caring. So of course Niall would go with him. How could he even think of staying behind? Someone needed to be there when the cracks finally splintered and fell apart.

~

They were on Rodeo Drive and it was so cliche that Zayn felt he was going to be sick. He was waiting, honestly waiting, for Niall to make a ‘Pretty Woman’ joke at this point, because it was really just too easy.

(“Gonna find your Julia Roberts today? Your perfect prostitute? Be anything you want, y’know!”)

Mostly Niall had been really quiet. It was strange, not to hear him laughing or making weird comments or bad puns about everything they saw or did. Not that Zayn had been paying a lot of attention lately, fully aware that he was too wrapped up in himself for his own good. He’d completely lost touch, even with Niall. 

The more in-tune parts of him felt bad for it. He wasn’t dim; he knew how upset they all were with him, or for him. He saw the pity they held when they gazed at him and thought he didn’t notice. He hated that he worried them. It wasn’t as if it was ever intentional.

He just liked the thrill. 

There was a certain freedom in the sick game he was playing with himself. It was a feeling that swept away the bitterness and the anger. It was like a cleansing, a repeated washing of himself, like he was starting over every single time.

They weren’t all perfect. They didn’t all have the same nose. Sometimes their eyes were brown or grey or green. Different body types, also. He wasn’t looking for perfection. He was looking for similarities. 

He didn’t know when it became about proving a point. It was like he was trying to show her up, even in his own mind, and it was twisted. As if she would ever know, or even cared anymore. It was sick, and he knew. He couldn’t even confess it out loud to himself. 

He was walking a dangerous line and he knew they all saw it. They saw the girls, saw the numbers he collected and threw away, watching him escort them through back doors, never to be seen again. 

But it’d be the biggest lie he ever told if he said he wanted to stop. 

He couldn’t keep himself from checking. Watching the faces that passed, wondering when he’d see her. When it would knock the breath out him, like a punch in the gut, sending him spinning and wondering if it would ever stop hurting.

Niall was grabbing his arm suddenly and he knew he had done it again; lost himself in his own mind and forgotten he was supposed to be pretending it was all alright. It was always bullshit, but he figured the least he could do was try.

“Mate,” 

There was a stress to the word, almost like he didn’t want to say it, and that had Zayn’s attention immediately. He looked up from his feet, catching Niall’s eye. 

“Check it out.” he mumbled, nodding across the street from them. 

Zayn turned then, not sure what he was expecting, but honestly shocked with what he found.

It was one thing for him to see the girls himself. It was the norm for him to check out every fan at a signing or even just when they were stopped on the sidewalk. That was normal these days. 

But for Niall to stop him? For Niall to bring them to a halt, to acknowledge this thing, whatever it was? 

And Zayn could see why. 

Her hair was darker. The sun caught on it and there was a red tint to it. She may have even been a little bit taller. It didn’t matter though. She was standing with a friend and when she turned to laugh, head tossed back, eyes shut, hand on her stomach, Zayn’s head swam.

He was pretty sure it had never hit him so hard, never been so painfully obvious. He’d never actually clutched Niall’s arm before or lost his breathe for a moment.

But there she was, and she was laughing, and God… They could have been twins, maybe. 

“Whatcha waitin’ for?” Niall asked suddenly. Zayn forced himself to ignore the sadness in Niall’s tone because it wouldn’t do him any good to inquire about it.

Niall had done this one, he reminded himself as he adjusted his snapback and shrugged before making his way across the street, only waiting a moment for the traffic to clear. 

Niall had picked her himself. There was no way he was letting this one go. 

~

He always found it was easier when the music was louder. 

It was better that way, because there were no other sounds. Nothing to confuse him with. 

Just his hands on someone else, his head in another world, and he could forget everything else. He found a pace that fit the tone of whatever song his ipod would shuffle to, and there were never any complaints.

Of course there weren’t.

He was Zayn Malik from One Direction. No one in their right mind would ever complain about that.

His least favorite part was after. Sometimes they tried to stay, God forbid cuddle, like they thought it meant something. Sometimes they expected a call for seconds, like he kept anyone around that long anyway. Whatever the case, it was always awkward. 

Not this time. Of course not. This girl, who was exactly what he’d been looking for this whole time, would be different. He really should have expected it. 

As soon as he collapsed, already groping for the bedside table and his cigarettes, he felt her moving and climbing off the bed. He didn’t watch, but he listened as she rummaged around and got dressed. 

He didn’t know what provoked him but he found himself asking, “Comin’ to the show tomorrow?” 

She laughed and he was struck by the image of her on the sidewalk, smiling with her friend, completely innocent to manipulative boy band members.

“You mean that wasn’t it?” she replied, and the comparisons stopped. She was cheeky, her voice confident, so unlike Perrie. So very, very different, because Perrie would have never made a joke like that. 

Perrie, always eager and kind and encouraging… 

“Yeah.” he mumbled in reply. “Yeah, that was it alright.” 

There was quiet and the edge of the bed dipped down when she sat. He heard her zip up her boots and then she was moving again, heels clicking on the floor as she headed for the door.

For once, he was a little sad. Just a small part of him, whatever was left that could feel that way, came back to life to remind him that he was losing something again. 

For once, it would have been nice to keep a phone number. 

But she wasn’t Perrie. Not by a long shot. None of them ever really were.


End file.
